


Pleasures remain (so does the pain)

by dragon_rider



Series: Hold on to me and never let me go [4]
Category: Dredd (2012), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Porn, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We can do anything you want,” Jim promises, “Anything.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasures remain (so does the pain)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/gifts).



> Gratuitous porn because it's been a year since I finished the first part of the series and I missed Dredd too much.
> 
> I'm not tagging everything that happens. Dirtiest thing I've ever written, for real. I hope you guys can enjoy some of it. I can promise you there's no watersports or daddy kink, if you need a heads up.
> 
> **~~~~~**  
>     
> This takes place before Jim tells Joe who he really is and before Dredd tells him his first name so Jim is still Wright for Dredd and Joe is just Dredd for Jim.
> 
> Chronologically, Dredd's POV happens first.

Jim never knows what to expect from Dredd.

Being with him is a roller-coaster of emotions that gets dizzying and overwhelming at times.

The downs, those times in which the Judge wants absolutely nothing to do with the likes of him, are cutting in ways Jim does his best to ignore but that get to him all the same. He’s never been well-equipped to deal with rejection and he’s never been needier and more desperate than he is now in this god-forsaken version of his home planet, so facing Dredd’s shutting almost tangible shutters to keep Jim out of his head—out of his heart—is marring.

He’s always been kind of a masochist, that much he has to admit, and with literally nothing and no one else to turn to there’s really no other choice for him but to keep coming back where he’s not even sure he’s wanted.

The ups—oh, Jim loves being masochistic and being trapped in this horrifying place during those. They make it all worth it even if it’s just sweaty, dirty, quick sex. Dredd takes him time and time again, insatiable and unapologetic, takes him as if it were his prerogative and Jim has never felt more needed and—does he dare think it— _whole_ than when they’re together; when they’re so tangled in each other there’s no telling them apart, when they’re not a bitter Judge and a wild stowaway, when they exist in the most basic of ways and get lost in the blissful planes of pleasure.

Jim makes stupid mistakes but he’s not stupid. He knows he’s nothing but an escape route to Dredd’s world-weariness but he is _something_ and that’s all that matters to him.

Sometimes he’s foolish enough to think Dredd isn’t keeping him around only for sex. Sometimes his eyes remind Jim too much of Bones’ expressive ones and he can see concern there, can see affection alongside lust. Sometimes Dredd’s arms hold him just right and convince him he’s important in more ways than one.

Most of the time, Jim lives in the moment and takes what he can get.

***

Going down on Dredd quickly becomes an addiction Jim doesn’t want to fight against.

The Judge is noisier when he’s having his cock sucked, unravels to a level he never reaches otherwise, and Jim loves the scrap of control over Dredd it gives him because it’s all up to him even when it’s Dredd who shoves his member down his throat without much warning; it’s Jim who chooses between making him come so hard his knees go weak with it or simply getting him off fast so they can move on to other things.

He tends to choose depending on Dredd’s schedule—if he has to leave to a long and almost fruitless day of defending justice in Mega-City One once again and Jim is around to see him go, he makes sure his favorite Judge goes out sated and as content as a man like him can get. If Dredd can stay, Jim gets a little selfish and, as much as he loves feeling Dredd’s girth almost choking him, he leaves him hanging just enough to make the second round all the more filling.

Tonight is an exception. Dredd has been patrolling for almost forty eight hours and he’s barely alert, exhaustion settling deep in his bones with that acrimonious edge Jim knows comes from a job half-finished, a job that never ends.

So Jim gets his lover on the couch, unzips him and goes to town.

The sight of Jim on his knees seems more than enough to get things going; Dredd’s cock twitches, suddenly very much interested, and Jim licks his own palm and fingers to jerk him off messily as Dredd is transfixed tracing his thumb over Jim’s lush mouth.

He plays with the Judge’s fingertips, pulling them into his mouth and swirling his tongue around them, and enjoys how Dredd gets harder and frantic with the teasing. He’s quick to demand attention where he wants it; driving Jim’s head to his crotch with a strong hand on his nape.

Jim obliges, gets him nice and wet with firm licks and open-mouthed kisses. Dredd is already grunting when Jim decides to take him as far as he can unexpectedly, knowing quite well by now that Dredd especially enjoys stark contrasts in his ministrations.

Dredd’s whole body jolts and Jim moans—who knew the stony man could be so responsive to the right stimulus?—before dropping the hard length in his mouth with a pop and paying attention to the thick vein in the underside instead.

He takes the opportunity to lick his hand again, gripping Dredd’s leather-clad thigh tightly with the other one as he rolls his sack between clever fingers and welcomes him into his mouth again, this time to start sucking slowly but thoroughly.

His moistened hand closes around the base of Dredd’s dick because he’s too damn big to allow Jim to deep throat him properly at first. Jim is nothing if not an overachiever though so he tames his gag reflex and relaxes his jaw enough after a few minutes.

That’s when Dredd goes crazy. He groans so loud Jim swears the neighbors from across the hall can hear him and his hips snap up as if on their own volition. Jim breathes the musk and sweat, nose buried in Dredd’s pubic hair, and blinks back tears so he can look up to the debauched picture the Judge makes; sprawled and flushed with arousal, jaw hanging open as he watches Jim’s lips stretch obscenely around his cock.

He holds onto both of the Judge’s thighs, darkly pleased he didn’t bother changing out of the bottom half of his uniform, and hollows his cheeks at the precise moment each time Dredd thrusts into his throat. The hand on the back of his head is constricting and Dredd is definitely lucky Jim likes it a little rough; he can tell his scalp is going to be sore after this.

When Dredd’s hips begin to stutter, Jim knows it’s his cue to withdraw and nimbly suck the tip of his dick, tongue teasing the slit until Dredd is coming all over his face and still has enough in him for Jim to swallow some, lewd and intent.

Completely breathless, Dredd hauls him to his lap and kisses him until his lips sting, his broad fingers smearing the come on his cheeks.

Jim plays his lover’s final moan on repeat in his mind and rides one well-muscled thigh. It doesn’t take him more than a couple of minutes to reach his own orgasm and sag against Dredd’s chest; that’s how much he loves pleasing him like this.

The Judge grunts lowly, appreciative, and doesn’t let him go; not even when they’re in the shower trying to clean the mess they made of each other.

Guilt revolting within him, Jim pushes thoughts of Bones out of his head and relishes the afterglow during which Dredd is always softer, almost gentle, and lets the regular movements of his chest lull him to sleep as well.

***

There aren’t many people—in any universe—that can make Jim Kirk bend over for them.

Dredd is definitely one of said people and he takes full advantage of it; some mornings Jim barely manages to turn off the stove before his lover gets rid of his pants—if Jim is wearing any—or simply pulls up the hem of the oversized shirt Jim is fond of dressing in when they’re in Dredd’s apartment and that covers absolutely nothing. Then Dredd is either driving deep into him or burying his face between Jim’s ass cheeks and _oh_ —Jim has had lots and lots of sex but there’s nothing like a frenzied pounding to curl his toes and stir the fire in his lower belly and he’s never had a lover so strong and steadfast as Dredd.

Apparently fighting crime does wonders for his stamina and Jim is ever so grateful for that.

Today is one of those days.

He’s just closed the tap when he feels big hands groping his ass, kneading it firmly before parting his cheeks. Jim bows in front of the sink, moaning low in his throat as Dredd’s rough stubble burns his skin.

It’s earlier than usual so Jim hasn’t even showered yet. He blushes but figures Dredd will stop what he’s doing if he finds it too gross.

His hole is loose from their nightly activities and sloppy with Dredd’s come and lube, his inner thighs in no better shape. He was too lazy and too comfortable to move and clean up and now he’s going to pay the price.

It doesn’t seem to faze the Judge, however. More like the opposite; Dredd growls and the sound goes straight to Jim’s cock.

He lets out a surprised yelp at the first swing of Dredd’s tongue on his rim. He seems determined to lap his seed off Jim’s skin and he’s so thorough, so bent on it, that Jim’s knees threaten to give out and he has to grasp the edge of the sink not to fall.

He spreads his legs wider, encouraging, and stutters Dredd’s name like a plea in between gasps. He arches his back, shoving his ass onto Dredd’s face and he grunts, both of his thumbs massaging the edges of Jim’s entrance as his tongue dives in.

Jim cries out, loud and shameless, and swears he can smell Dredd’s arousal; thick and heady, promising all sorts of pleasant things when he’s done with the kinky cleanup he’s currently engaged in.

His lover doesn’t disappoint. Soon enough, his length breaches Jim and he feels so incredibly full he can’t even scream.

Dredd manhandles him onto the counter, hands firm and rough on his chest, and Jim’s mouth remains open in a moan; his brain is short-circuiting, he can’t believe the composed and apt Judge wants to fill him up right after eating him out.

He can feel Dredd is close and pushes back to meet his deep thrusts. It only takes the older man two tries to angle for his prostate in that way that makes Jim’s whole body shudder and tingle all over but he could bet he’d come just from how fucking hot this is.

“Fuck, yeah,” he pants, arm twisting to grasp Dredd’s neck, “Do it, do it! Come in me, c’mon—“

Dredd comes biting Jim’s neck almost hard enough to draw blood.

Jim doesn’t care. He could still hear him moaning with his release as he spilled hot inside him, that’s how loud he was being.

Jim follows suit soon, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train after just a few strokes on his cock from Dredd’s calloused fingers.

***

Dredd is not a kisser.

He’s used to kissing his sexual partners because they seem to need and seek that connection, because they expect him not to treat them like one would treat a whore and so he complies.

Wright is a kisser. 

The kid—he needs to stop calling him that, especially when he has him naked and pressed close against him, writhing as he fucks himself on his fingers—is slowly but surely changing his mind about kisses. He seems a natural in guessing when Dredd would fulfil that particular desire and open his mouth for him.

He nibbles at Dredd’s bottom lip, smirking as if he were the one in control despite the Judge is still mostly dressed and has him moaning in his lap, nicely cross-eyed and wild with just two fingers up his ass. The kiss is filthy and extremely arousing; Dredd feels his cock stirring with each skillful brush of Wright’s tongue and finds himself scrambling to give back.

The blonde moans into his mouth, approving, when he barely waits for them to get some air in their lungs to surge for another kiss and their lips glide over one another, sending minute electric shocks through his spine.

A part of him knows this is foreplay, even with his fingers prepping Wright to take him. It makes him tense, knowing he’s never spent so much time kissing and not fucking someone that he wants; knowing he’s letting his guard down again and there doesn’t seem to be a single thing he can do about it.

Begrudgingly, he stops gripping Wright’s left ass cheek to squirt more lube on his fingers. Only one more, he thinks, and he can get what he wants; only one more and he will silence that nagging voice in his head that insists having the same bed partner for almost a month equals to having a relationship, whether Dredd likes it or not, and he needs to put an end to this liaison and soon.

The blonde sighs prettily as the third finger sinks into him, tipping his head down to nuzzle Dredd's nose and murmur his appreciation of what they’re doing.

Dredd has the ridiculous and sudden thought he could do this all day if he gets to watch Wright undulating his hips above him, making his ass look even sweeter and tempting than it already is when the Judge looks over his shoulder and down his back.

There’s something to say about how he’s squeezing around his fingers. At times, Dredd could swear the blonde is clasping around his dick; it’s that enticing.

He can feel the familiar heat building in his groin already. It doesn’t—it _shouldn’t_ —make sense.

He wonders when he stopped getting _just_ what he wanted and started getting _more_ instead.

“I can take more,” Wright breathes out, puzzling, “ _Ah_ , I can—you know—if you want.”

It takes Dredd’s clouded reasoning several seconds to understand what his younger lover is offering.

“Can you?” he asks in a throaty whisper, unconvinced but teasing, “Can you take it all?”  
“Yes,” Wright replies at once, eyelids fluttering despite Dredd isn’t curling his fingertips towards that one spot that can make him come untouched if he’s persistent enough when he fucks him, “ _Yes_ , I can. Try me.”

It’s a challenge now and Dredd wants it bad enough not to heed the warnings in his head. _Fucking_. _Fucking is safe. Everything else isn’t._

Wright hands him the lube again and kisses him deeply, making Dredd grunt and squeeze the tube blindly on his hand.

He curses as the fourth finger stretches the blonde. He’s so tight and hot inside Dredd feels it all the way down to his cock.

He latches on to Wright’s ear and sucks the lobe into his mouth to prevent any noise from coming out unattended. His other hand grips Wright’s hip firmly, fingers digging into the dimple above it with more gusto than he’ll ever admit.

He’s never had someone so beautiful in his bed but he’s a protector of the truth, of what’s right and just, and he can’t lie to himself well enough to believe that’s all this is.

He won’t lie—but he won’t name it.

This is what it is; what he needs, what he wants, what he didn’t know he wanted until he had it.

Wright moans and shivers as he bears down boldly on his thick fingers. Dredd is careful, twists and moves his fingers bit by bit, enjoying how the blonde opens up to him no matter how much he keeps stretching him.

Working his thumb in takes a little while. Wright apologizes in a whimper, says he’s too close and that’s why he’s clenching around him so much. Dredd—oddly enough—believes him.

The slow pace isn’t vexing; it feels right. He keeps going and when he finally has the heel of his hand in Wright, his wrist gets lost in him easily and it only takes a couple of tilts in the right direction to make the blonde come with a sob and drop his head on his shoulder, trembling like a leaf.

Dredd feels hot, fresh tears against his skin. Then the younger man is reaching between them, pawing at his still clothed erection to get him off.

Wright doesn’t take him out of his trousers. There’s no need. Dredd comes with just enough pressure applied there after having his hand squeezed by the blonde’s ass and little else.

He’s speechless.

His lover chuckles in his ear.

“We can—we can do anything you want,” he promises, winded but sincere, “Anything.”

Dredd feels like he’s simultaneously won and lost something.

He kisses Wright with post-coital indolence and lets him read his answer in his actions.

He’s good at that, after all.

***

Dredd is battered and ill-tempered when he drags himself to his apartment after a gruesome shift.

He showered and changed but the blood and entrails are still prickling his neck and the lower half of his face.

He knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight and resolves to go to his block’s gym after letting Wright know he’s in no mood to indulge him, if the blonde is still there.

He finds his lover already between his sheets and snoring softly on his pillow.

He waits for a rush of exasperation that doesn’t come. He can only stare at the figure lying prone in his bed, marveling at how pink the blonde’s lips look even in the semidarkness of the room.

He exposes him deliberately and finds him bare and ready for him, the telltale glistening of lube in the cleft of his ass.

Wright sighs and sticks his backside further up, mumbling something in his sleep. Dredd kisses the space between his shoulder blades and brushes his lips against the rich span of his eyelashes and his lover wakes and smiles up at him, just like that.

“Wanted to surprise you,” he murmurs, rolling to lie on his back and stretching, “Are you surprised?”

Dredd grunts in reply. That’s certainly not the most accurate word to describe how he feels.

He undresses without taking his eyes off of Wright and manhandles him to his hands and knees.

The blonde laughs and turns his head to look at him, mirth and excitement plain in every feature of his pretty face.

“Happy to see me?” he teases, gasping at feeling the blunt of Dredd’s cock rubbing between his cheeks, “Woah, okay, yeah. Very happy.”  
Dredd nips the back of his neck, puffing as he pushes in and bottoms out. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He gets a breathy, nonsensical reply that he disregards. He reaches for Wright’s cock, knowing he won’t last very long and leans his forehead against the blonde’s upper back, his other hand keeping his weight off of the slender man as he picks up a fast cadence with his hips.

Wright meets his every thrust, practically fucking himself onto his cock each time, and it’s effortless; the way their bodies fit and match, the way his warmth drives away the negative thoughts that were plaguing Dredd’s mind and seemed to have no end.

The blonde cleans up after they’re done and inspects the clips in his abdomen keeping his skin together with shy fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” he asks quietly, his bright blue eyes wide and worried, “Do you need something for it?”  
“No,” Dredd rumbles, weaving an arm around Wright’s back to put him back where he was, resting on his chest.

He has everything he needs, right here.


End file.
